Hi all, I hope you’re in the mood for something a little different? I decided I wanted to write a serialized story. So here we go. Part 1.
I don’t yet know how to write a serialized story, but I’m sure I’ll work it out…
Enjoy!
Chelmsford needed to get his trousers, but it was difficult with all these lovely people around. The cruise liner had passed through Panama yesterday. Chelmsford had blinked when the Captain had told him last night. But they must have gotten through without any damage. Perhaps Panama was a river, and not a country? It was definitely a hat, but they had hardly gone through a hat last night. Unless that was what the Captain had been talking through.
Chelmsford felt a flash of anger: the man had been testing him. Rude!
He wasn’t quite sure where they were now, there were only blue skies and sea around them. It was early in the year, though, and it was getting nippy. The evening breeze stroked his naked arms and shoulders. He was relaxing in front of the swimming pool on the liner’s deck, wearing only his bathing costume. They all knew who he was and wanted to hear about his exploits. Chelmsford loved attention, but his admirers were fickle. He was a martyr to it, really. It wasn’t like he was the only celebrity on board. There was even a rather amusing chap with a shocker of a moustache, who was also in the sleuthing business. Not that he’d stand a chance, if you stacked them up side by side in their bathing costumes! Chelmsford believed most strongly in mens sana in corpore sano, unlike many of his egg-head competitors.
One more story, and then he’d go. One more story, and then he’d hang around for a few minutes. Make sure these ladies weren’t in danger when they went back in the pool water. Then he’d go. Poor old Batty was in the cabin with a case of the tummies, and might need him.
He was woken by the Captain. The Captain looked worried and wanted a word.
Chelmsford nodded. He didn’t want to say anything in case his teeth chattered. The late evening was chilly.
“In private, if you don’t mind, said the Captain.
Chelmsford didn’t mind. “This way to my cabin,” he managed to say. Eyes followed the pair as they left the pool.
Batty was still greenish when they reached the cabin the two of them shared. He was sitting in the writing chair, which he had dragged from the desk to be nearer the ensuite bathroom.
“My dear fellow,” said Chelmsford. “I’d hoped you’d be sleeping. How are you feeling?” He pulled on trousers, shirt and sweater, and immediately felt more in control.
“Never mind that,” said Batty. “Who’s died?”
The Captain turned to look behind him. The cabin door was closed.
“We couldn’t find the drummer. The house band: Ferdie and his Utopian Tunesters… “
“Salvatore? God no!” Batty’s voice grew stronger in concern. Chelmsford noted with pleasure that it put some pink back into this friend’s cheeks.
“He’s dead. I’m sorry. We found him… his body… in the storeroom beside the gift shop this about half an hour ago.”
“The small gift shop on the third deck? Where the newspapers are distributed from?”
“Correct!”
“Where else? They won’t get away with this!”
“What?” The Captain sputtered. “How—“
“Well, it’s not very difficult. Chelmsford? Would you like to explain it to our friend here?”
I have abandoned my writing prompt rules for this, as I’m in enough trouble already. Let’s see what happens. If you think you’ve worked it out, please write in and let me know. Otherwise, tune in next time to find out how Batty solved the murder.
I mean, of course, how ace sleuth and handsome chap Chelmsford solved the murder.
Poor old Batty.
